A new month, a new poem by Vanessa Matic. Read it after the break.

Spring Is Fleeting Ophelia Is Not Bleeding

In the morning dust I’ve arisen
Oh Ophelia
Child heart blank as asphodel and your
wrist so thin and delicate in the song of
trees it carries down the seems of the
river

Where wild strawberries grow and snakes
catch their tongue in cheeky rubber
skin

The sunset is grave and my solipsism is
brain matter over earths atmosphere
I travel end to end of the sweetness that
is bitter

Within sanity is madness and there I am weak
No longer for frailty is cast out
As I saw her naked body

Down opal green river
Her amber hair in tangled snakes
I called her Medusa
Her eyes glass a marble collage of empty sorrows
For tomorrow is no more
now

Like poppies in my mind you’ve blossomed
to enthrall deviant onto my attention
In man kinds sinister bat like fancy less taste in ”sins”
There is the keyhole and they use it for the details
and the deeds

But oh how long her slender body is in the damp dark of the river
It glows like the lady in the water
It calls for no one
any longer

Grace-like glass with a moon in her palm
Her face wet and calm

Sixteen hundred wild dandelions tangled
in amber threaded hair
Yellow color freckled in the green and red and yet
I see not the color of dead, it is tranquil

Asexual color blind birth right and birth mark cast upon the serene
And there goes down the past, the present, and the future…
to the dream

In Denmark the dark a devil in Helsinki
You bring me glee in joyous tears no buried
bodies

How vast the sea it is a mystery
Baltic boats crash and who knows
how deep or traumatic and beautiful
Within serene and mean goes
into its depths and what is left

Sand upon my fingers of polish red on pale skin
Dead sea minerals on my cheek bone
Kiss the glow of the sun once more

As I remember Ophelia
Her head full of snakes like Medusa
Illuminated from the yellow dandelions and the
damp green water and the golden looming sun
Fire beaming through the forest thick coated trees
I shy to touch the stars at night to make me
diminish the thought of your marble eyes like
the the stars falling, they died years ago

– Vanessa Matic